A slender young man sat slumped on a rusted, graffiti-scarred bench across from the park. Pale skin stretched tightly over sharp features, and dark circles weighed heavily beneath his eyes, as if sleep itself had abandoned him long ago.
In his trembling hands rested a cold can of cheap energy drink—the kind only slum rats like him ever bought. It was all he had to keep his eyes open.
At this rate… he'd be dead before sunrise.
Leo soaked in the chill seeping through the aluminum before lifting the can to his lips. He took a sip.
—and instantly grimaced.
"Ugh… so bitter!"
*Shiver.*
The sour taste crawled across his tongue, and he glared at the can as if it had personally betrayed him.
"Should've bought a loaf of bread or something…"
Still, he drank again. Slowly. Reluctantly.
"Oh well. This is what poverty throws at you."
He hadn't slept in days.
And honestly, the bitterness was working—barely keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness.
With a tired sigh, Leo pushed himself up from the bench.
His clothes were tattered, dirty—street rags fit only for rats like him. His dark hair hung damp and messy over his eyes, clinging to his forehead. He clenched the empty can, turned, and lobbed it toward a nearby trash bin.
*Clang—!*
It missed. Badly. Not even close.
"…Tch."
Leo shuffled over, picked the can up off the ground, and dropped it into the trash with a scowl.
Everyone knew about the **Nightmare Curse**.
It had appeared without warning—and changed the world overnight.
People began having dreams.
No—nightmares.
In them, they were dragged into unknown realms and forced to face grueling trials. If you were lucky—*very* lucky—you might survive. Complete the trial, and you could be rewarded with a **Divine Spark**, granting access to the forgotten powers of dead gods.
But most never made it that far.
They lost their lives.
Or worse—their sanity.
Those who survived and awakened divine power were called **the Awakened**.
Heroes. Idols. Living weapons.
They were praised, worshiped—because they were the only ones capable of holding the Nightmare Curse at bay.
As for Leo?
He was nothing.
A nobody.
A slum rat scraping by in a merciless world—lying, stealing, doing whatever it took to survive.
A horrible way to live.
But that was fate.
And tonight, death was already knocking at his door—with a smirk.
He stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, shoving his hands into his pockets. Even though being chosen by the Nightmare Curse was something any sane person should dread…
At least it would be faster than waiting to die out here.
Still—the Curse was never merciful.
As Leo walked deeper into the city, the distant hum of neon lights and broken streets filling his ears, something else reached him.
*Whispers.*
Low. Warped. Unintelligible.
Leo slowed.
"…?"
They were coming from an alley's far corner.
A cracked wall.
Faint violet light shimmered from within the fractures, pulsing softly—like a living heartbeat.
His feet moved before his mind could stop them.
As he drew closer, the purple glow brightened.
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
The whispers grew louder.
Closer.
Leo stopped just a few steps away.
His eyes widened.
His heart began to race.
"…This is bad."
He tried to step back—
—but instead, he lurched forward.
An invisible force wrapped around him, dragging him closer to the wall.
"—?!"
He strained, pulling back with everything he had.
It was useless.
The violet glow flared.
**WHOOOOM—!**
A violent surge yanked him forward.
"AAAA—!"
Leo's scream was swallowed whole as the fractured wall burst into blinding light—
—and the Nightmare took him.